UFSW Hunger Games/Issue 12
This is Issue 12 of the UFSW Hunger Games, written by KnowledgeProspector. Issue 12 Amelia continues to run through the street, never thinking once to look back. Her thoughts were spiraling into panic, and it tore at her mind; face Mark, or flee? Flee, prepare, and maybe let him get away? Give up, and just run for dear life, hoping for this to blow over? Though her ideas were loaded, she sped through them in a few seconds. It empowered her pace, as she sprinted past the ruined cars, lone infected, and abandoned buildings, passing by them as blurs. She closes her eyes tightly, letting the tears flow to her cheeks, its direction blown by the wind. She takes the nearest left turn she could, vanishing from the block in almost an instant. ---- It was unfortunate. The girl was running too fast, and Mark found it difficult to trail her. He notes where the girl vanishes and sets his eyes on the walkers of this street, measuring on how many they are, if he ever needed to fight them. There were only about three, or five, at most. He slips the strap of his rifle on his shoulder, and slows to a jog. He hasn’t found this much time for himself for a while now. He does a quick count of how many he’s taken down; that boy he had just killed, then that other boy, the girl in the store, the girl with the bag, James… James. What was he doing in the mix? He shakes his head to snap his thoughts out of it. Why the hell did James have to die? Why did Barbara have to die? Why did Ridley, Geary… The list goes on, and it made Mark’s bitterness grew by the count. All these people were probably looking at him right now, counting on him. He doesn’t know who is and who isn’t in hell. He feels like he might find out soon. All of this walking has led him to an empty street, emptier than the last. There were more trees and less buildings here than usual. He looks around and decides that he should probably get back to the areas where the buildings; he assumes that’s where everybody else will be at this point. He tries to count how many there were left. The best estimation he can come up with is probably at the twenties, assuming that everyone else has already started killing each other. He taps his pockets, checks for anything metal inside them; judging from how light they felt, there just wasn’t many, at all. He still has one pistol, and this reliable hunting rifle. Looks like he was going to have to make it count. ---- She couldn’t take it any longer. Amelia sits by herself at a bus stop bench, motionless, as if all the spirit was taken out of her. Tears were just flowing out of her eyes, but she didn’t feel like she was crying. It was just her, lightening the load of her emotions. She sniffles once, and wipes a few tears away with her finger. “Sarah…” she mutters, hoarsely. “What the hell am I gonna do?...” She couldn’t take her eyes from the gray cement that stretched over the block. Compared to others, it was the best view she could settle on. She demanded a response. But all she got was silence. She sighs, continues to sit there like a statue. Apart from the solemnity, she was starting to hear other distant noises. The wind, the crackle of concrete… She was forced to submerge, above her heavy thoughts, upon seeing figures on the other left end of the street appear. There were about three of them, shambling… a cruel reminder that she’s still in this mess, this hell. She hurriedly wipes the tears, her moment of weakness, away. The way she messily did it reddened and shined her cheeks. She stands up, sniffles a few more times, and starts jogging toward the direction of the infected. Those things were beyond her now. All she was looking to do was arm herself with a new gun. ---- Somehow in all of this turmoil, Alfred could be found smiling, sitting by himself in a small, empty alley. He sat in the dirty cement ground, arms resting on his knees. He looks as if he had no care in the world. He’s been thinking about the good old days, when Lionell and Walter were still alive. There were still biters around, sure, but the community in Misty Forest separated them from it, and enabled them to live a normal life. All those days, watching movies, drinking beer, sitting right next to Elena… her smile, her long, silky blonde hair brushing off against his ears. He wondered how they were doing without him, without them three. If Anthony was treating them right. If she was still having her nightmares. They were nothing but past memories to him now. He doesn’t know if he can come back to that life. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever win this. His thoughts all came crashing down. Alfred’s smile withers, and his mind is overtaken by darkness. Just like that, he was back. Back into this tournament His expression diverts back into distress. His feelings start to weigh him down. Alfred stands up, brushes the dirt off his jeans. He slips his hand inside the pocket of his jacket and takes out his weapon, a pistol. He puts it back inside, as he wanted to look away from violence for a second. The glass windows opposite to him were shattered to pieces. The metal door to his far left, dented. Garbage cans lying on the ground, its contents spilled messily onto the concrete. And then it hit him. He looks at his hands, and clenches them on and off. They ached, for some reason. He turns it around to see his knuckles. They were bruised. He couldn’t believe it. This was all his doing. His outburst of rage, something very rare, something he’s managed to contain since he’s found Lionell, Elena. He thought he’d never do it again. He walks away from the alley briskly, focusing his thoughts on something else. ---- Lilly felt displaced. She wandered aimlessly through the streets, more caught up on the surroundings than her own thoughts. When she thought about a plan, it grew complicated to the point that it stressed her out. She tried taking a break, looking at something else, be it the electrical posts, the display windows of the buildings, and even cars. Upon encountering walkers at the opposite end of the street, her eyes transfer to an abandoned police car. She scurries over to it and brushes off the dust from the windows. There was no passenger; just a collection of a messy stack of papers and a gray binder on the seats. It was untouched, for the most part, and she needed to see what was inside. She scans the ground around her, trying her best not to look at the walkers, and finds a small, yet boulder-like piece of stone near the car’s front wheel. She picks it up, glances at the walkers, immediately regrets it, and smashes the car window open. She just knew that would attract sound, so she rushes to open it. She slips inside the front passenger seat and opens the compartments. Just as she suspected, there was a six-shooter and a box of bullets inside of it. She takes the revolver, slips it into her vacant pocket, and grabs the box next. She clumsily pours the bullets out into the cup of her hand and manages to nab a handful. She scans around to her left side and stretches toward the bottom of the driver’s seat, slipping the handful of bullets into her back pocket and dropping a few of them. She holds on to the steering wheel as she tried to feel a certain button. It was to open the back seat, to see if there were any guns in there. With her current find, she’s positive that there might actually be an unused shotgun stored in there, along with a few shells. Just the thought of arming herself was already boosting her confidence. But soon, she feels her left shin being tugged fiercely, and fiercely… she spins around to see a walker holding on to it, pulling even more forceful this time. She panics and starts kicking its head, all while she tried edging back. Out of her gyrating, she buzzes the steering wheel’s horn a few times. Her heart nearly drops, and she continues to kick the walker away, stronger this time. Her panic aids her in kicking the walker away. She quickly opens the car door behind her and slips out. She lands on her hands onto the sidewalk, getting a quick glance of a few pairs of feet; even more walkers, the ones she had ignored from earlier. Her panic-induced movement caused her to slip out of the car almost instantly. She crawls out of the sidewalk and gets up to her feet. She anxiously takes out her old handgun and starts looking around. Why the hell is this happening to her? Walkers were pouring out from the seemingly-empty buildings she had passed, through its front doors and windows. All of these new walkers added to the existing one from the other end of the street. It was starting to look like she was surrounded. ---- Alfred’s trek took him to a street he wasn’t even aware of reaching. He snaps out of his thoughts for a second and was about to return, when he hears two simultaneous gunshots echo from his left. He faces the direction and starts walking to it, when he hesitates. It was a person, but it might have been Cole, or… He ignores it, and starts jogging toward it. All of his thinking has actually been about him playing the game. And he’s up for it. If it’ll let him win, if it’ll let him go back to Elena. ---- Lilly tried over and over again to pave a way for herself, but it was no dice. Each walker she shoots gets replaced. She’s at least managed to give herself a bit of space, thanks to all of the bullets in her trusty handgun. If she needed more, she still has her revolver. It was out of the question wielding them both at once, so she just settles with one. She keeps herself busy by focusing on one side, shooting down any walker that presents an opening. She chose the one to her right, because it was the thinnest. She was in the middle of her tenth one when she sees a fast-moving figure on the other side of the barrier. Quickly, she remembered why she was here in the first place. It was another survivor, and he’s presented himself to her. Alfred manages to meet eyes with the shooter, from the other side; they were a clear blue, and it complemented her shoulder-length red hair. She was beautiful, and he wanted to save her for some reason. And yet, something else nagged him to focus on the task at hand. He was better at fighting them head-on, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. Alfred holds his gun tightly with both hands and starts shooting. Some shots missed, but it was compensated with a few lucky hits to the head. He became a little more confident, and the biters eventually gave him an opening to slip through. Alfred runs through two biters, pushing them off to the ground with his shoulders. And there, he gets a clear view of the girl. Lilly waits for him to approach as the man gives her a brief, yet awkward stare. Once he’s not suspecting it, she’ll shoot him. But for now, she could use some help… A bit of hope was restored in Alfred, somehow. This won’t be the last time he’ll see a pretty girl. He steps in near her side and starts shooting against the other biters that approached her. He misses a few times, but the girl uses it as leverage and kills the ones he missed at. Soon enough, the biters around them became lighter, and lighter. This fool was actually helping Lilly. She can’t believe this was going to be an easy kill. They take down a few more before the guy approaches her, gun still in hand, a friendly look in his face. Lilly fakes a smile, to help show that he was indeed her “knight in shining armor.” The man eats it up. Alfred approaches her, nearly in stride, even if they’ve left a few living biters around them. She seemed to look friendly. He was already thinking about something long-term, like them helping each other, getting out of here, maybe finding a car... Lilly takes back her innocent smile with a devious smirk, and aims the gun at him. He freezes, but it isn’t enough; Amelia has already pulled the trigger. Alfred drops all of his thoughts once the girl aims and… hears a clicking sound. Her smirk quickly changes into a frown as she takes the gun back and examines it. What was he going to do? Retaliate by shooting her? Just her fucking luck. Lilly was empty when it came down to putting this guy out. She grows even more anxious as the guy’s expression changes to that of worry. She sees him look at his gun, but he doesn’t aim it at her. What’s this idiot doing? Alfred was slowly realizing it. There really isn’t anybody left to trust. He starts heaving his chest a few times, and looks at his gun. Unbelievable. He’s fallen for his old habits again… but it felt like it’s been so long, and he could really use a pretty girl’s shoulder to lean on right now. But not this time. Just as he aims the gun at her, Lilly has already pounced at Alfred and smashed his face in with the butt of her gun. ---- Somehow, after all that walking, that scavenging, Mark had managed to look worse. His skin has grown pale, and it made his heavy-bagged eyes stand out. He was finding it more difficult to keep his eyes steady, and sweat uncontrollably poured from his forehead. He keeps looking at his left arm. The thing that’s been bothering him all this time. He only checked on it once, and he couldn’t look at it again; what’s behind the wrapped cloth laid the purple veins, jutting out from the hole where the bullet came from. He thought he had already treated this by cleaning the wound up with some water. He hasn’t felt a thing since the night before. But now it’s coming back. He hasn’t had a bite to eat since Ridley and James died; he’s been too busy hunting for others. He’s only had a few water breaks. He was starting to feel stupid and reckless for being so caught up into this. But there was no turning back. He only looked to running into some kind of luck, hopefully in the form of medicine. That’ll come later, probably when he’s hunting. He can still walk, at least. He scours a few blocks to see if there were any of them hanging around. He stops, upon seeing a street with walkers… walking away, focused on something. They had to be walking toward living people. He straps the rifle behind his shoulder and starts jogging toward it, slowing down to a crouch, so that he can take out the walkers standing in his way. They were too busy to even pay attention to him; Mark easily disposes the three of them with his knife. He hides behind the trunk of the nearest car, crouching and taking his rifle out. He aims, and looks through the scope at what the walkers were headed to. There were two people, right in the middle of the street… fighting. With their bare hands They were moving all over the place, and it made them difficult targets. Mark adjusts his position and assumes a more concentrated stance. He looks through the scope, waiting, and waiting, holding his breath for a steady shot… And yet his light-headedness pushes him out of his focus. He cursed at himself, and tries going back to his focus. The blonde-haired man had apparently stopped… And it came back. Apart from his headache, his vision blurred, and his wound ached. He kept suppressing it, but it was too powerful. He tries ignoring it by taking deep breaths, but he just finds himself losing air. He’s so close. Just two more kills, and he’ll get back to scavenging. And yet, his wound didn’t comply… ---- The girl was putting up a fight. She was fierce, even fiercer than Alfred. He could feel the corner of his eyebrow ache, his lip sting. Every blow he lands, she doesn’t seem to absorb. The girl just gets back up. If she lands a knock-out blow on this idiot, Lilly will be able to put him down. She’s careful with her approach, waiting, and waiting… If she hadn’t dropped her spare gun by accident, she wouldn’t have to do this. He just stood there, looking at her, waiting, probably… he hasn’t been attacking her like usual. Lilly furrows her eyebrows once he relaxes his stance. She follows his eyes, and sees him looking past her. She quickly feels the cold grasp of a walker, wrapping its arms around her tightly. But she was far too consumed into the fight; she reacts quickly and sways the walker away with a strong release of her arms. She’s forgotten about the ones they’ve left. She was about to turn around to face them when Alfred leaps at her and lands a heavy blow to her face. ---- Mark continues to compose himself. But he was just wasting time, to no avail. His problems kept coming back, no matter how hard he’s suppressed them. He’s tries his best to capture a quick moment of a clear shot, but the two from the distance were moving way too much. He decides to try one last time, taking a deep breath, holding himself as steady as he can, and aims. He manages to keep his aim on the blonde-haired man for two seconds, four, five… but it’s already happened. All his efforts to suppress his wounds have caused his hands to shake. He takes them away from his gun and looks. They just shook, all by themselves, so clear in his eyes. He looks at them for a few more seconds, before brushing his head with it. He was frustrated. He sighs, then, out of his anger, he bangs on the trunk of the car he hid in. He flinches at the noise he’s made, but judging from how the two are still fighting, he didn’t make much noise. Mark’s given up. He’s going to look for medicine, maybe a few painkillers, and he’ll go back to hunting again. He stands, grabs his rifle and looks to his right, when a walker suddenly pushes itself onto him and takes a bite out of his arm. ---- Lilly was on the ground, her vision blurry, when she manages to catch a glimpse of… somebody struggling with a walker. She stands right back up and faces the current matter at hand, and that was this fight, with this fool. The walkers had already added themselves to the mix, keeping Alfred busy. Lilly thought she has the chance to get her gun back when she herself is forced to fight the walkers. She manages to repel one by pushing its chest away, giving her time to run for her gun. But Alfred has kept up with her; he was able to block Lilly from it with a knee contact. Lilly was forced to kneel on the ground, clutching her stomach. She looked up at Alfred, as fierce as before, thinking of another approach. Maybe she needed to seduce him again. But Alfred’s emotionless stare told her that he’s way past that. She was about to stand up, when she hears a gunshot ring from her right side, prompting Alfred to take cover. The walker to her left falls. She looks at the shooter, the one who was wrestling a walker earlier. ---- Conner watches below him, as he sat on top of a building, watching two people below the ground. He’s been watching them since he heard the gunshots. He rubs his stubble, swings his feet playfully a few times, and continues watching the free entertainment. He was still feeling those bruises that kid from earlier gave him. He shakes his head at the thought of how he murdered him. He’s decided that this wasn’t his fight. He’s too damn exhausted, anyway. He stretches a bit, continues watching onward at the little ants, and decides to stand up, before thinking about sitting again. ---- Lilly and Alfred has earned a new opponent in the form of the sniper, shooting at them in the same street. But the way he’s missed so many times already kept the fight to just them two. The sniper mediated the walkers around them, at least. Mark’s been pouring shot after shot, and yet he hasn’t hit any of them yet. He needs to win this before he turns. Maybe the reward is… a cure, or—or something. But as much as he’s desperately tried to shoot them, his shaking hands kept holding him back. Lilly and Alfred, at this point, were starting to feel their exhaustion. Each of them had just about the same amount of bruises, and energy to even keep it up. They’ve resorted to periodical punches, and pushes here and there. They were going to have to end this soon. Lilly manages to land a jab at Alfred’s face, with her exhausted, heavy hand. Alfred stumbles back, hitting the pavement, and the car behind him. Another shot is fired, but it hits nothing. Lilly ignores the gunshot and approaches Alfred slowly, practically limping towards him. Just as Lilly was about to grab him, Alfred takes this chance and hops up to his feet, grabbing Lilly by the neck. He spins her into a small arc and lands her head onto the roof of the car. She lets out a grunt, and falls on her back, her forehead bleeding and bruised. Alfred stumbles toward her, and accidentally kicks the revolver closer to her. Not noticing it, he crouches down and does the heaviest swing he can on Lilly’s face. Her head spins to the other side, and all her movement stops. Alfred, still crouched down below her, breathes a few times and stands right back up. He tries catching his breath, walking around clumsily out of his fatigue. She put up a fight, but it was starting to look like it was over… Alfred looks over her one last time, hoping to finish the job, when she suddenly wakes up and grabs the revolver from her side. Alfred quickly looms over her when she aims it at him and shoots. He feels a sting in the side of his stomach, forcing him to pause for a second. But it wasn’t enough for him to keep going. Lilly shoots again, but her uncontrollable aim hits the electric post above them. Alfred flicks the gun away from her hands and bashes her head with his fist once more. After the third punch, Lilly’s head was muddled with blood. Her red hair obstructed her face, fortunately, so that Alfred didn’t have to see it disfigured. He wanted to leave with the image of her face still intact, and he wanted to keep it that way. He stands up, takes the revolver from her side. He sees the sniper, blonde hair, hiding behind the car, just looking at him. He decides it then, and there; if he was going to shoot him, he needs to do it now. Alfred is too tired to even move. Blood suddenly explodes from his chest. Shot after shot was fired, right behind him. Alfred drops to his knees, and lets the grip of his revolver go. The bullets didn’t come from the man… Amelia stands behind him, pistol aimed with one hand. ---- She could’ve sworn she saw that murderer at the other end of the street. Amelia starts to sprint, passing by the revolver the man dropped and taking it for herself. Mark summons every ounce of his strength, taking his rifle and scurrying to the opposite side of the street. He had just seen yet another survivor, and by the way she moved, she was in a better shape than him. He drags himself across the street, with walkers scattered around here and there. He was even more pale than last time, and more sweat poured from his forehead. He clutched the fresh bite mark on his arm as tightly as he could, pressuring the blood down. He really needs to pick up the pace. He can still win this, maybe with some painkillers and a bandage… He eyes an abandoned warehouse building and starts running for it, speeding through the walkers easily. He tackles the front door and stumbles to his feet, taking a bit of time to get back up. He just knew he was killing all of his energy by running. He speeds through the steps, hoping to reach the second building. He’s decided that once he’s nested, he’ll be able to gain a bit of energy from the rest. He had no regards for the noises of shambling footsteps echoing throughout the dark, empty building. As soon as he reaches the second floor, he quickly stops at the sight of a bright window overlooking the street. His salvation. He stumbles toward it, posting his rifle out of the window. His shaking hands struggle to hold it steady, and yet he tries to aim with it anyway. He looks through the scope, and sees the girl stomping toward him, her gaze piercing right through the lenses. Mark holds the trigger tightly, and pulls it. He misses, and hits the cement. He pulls it again. Another miss. The girl just walked, menacingly, as if she already knew she wasn’t going to get hit. He does the strongest grip he can on his rifle, and aims at the girl once more. He pulls the trigger. The recoil causes him to hit a walker on the knee instead. It was a good yard away from the girl. He pulls the trigger one more time, and feels it click. It was empty. He was goddamned empty. ---- Amelia strolled right through the street, shooting any infected that annoyed her in the head. Her focus was unhindered. There was no question about it; that was the man that killed Sarah. She enters the warehouse building and sees more infected roaming around, not even noticing her. To their right, the staircase. Amelia sprints through the steps, alerting a bit of infected but not enough to attract them. As soon as she turns left, she sees him. Pale, sickly… yet still alive. He sat pathetically against the window, rifle to his side, handgun on his right hand. He puts his gun up, aims at her. His hand shook a few times, and it quickly fell onto his lap. He couldn’t even pull the trigger. Amelia shook her head. As he attempts to hold the gun up again, Amelia shoots his lap. He lets out a cry, stronger than how he looked. She stops in front of him, and looks down. “You remember me?” she says, pointing to her face. “You killed her. All of them…” Mark tries his best to keep looking at her; he attempts to hold his gun up again. “Fuck you!” she shouts, her loudness accompanying the gunshot from her pistol; it hits Mark’s hand, and loosens his grip. Mark harshly flinched, not letting out a cry this time. Tears were starting to fall from her eyes. She sniffles once, as the images of Sarah, Danny, and Naomi flashed quickly through her mind. She wipes her tears away intensely, and focuses on him again. She grabs him by his arms, drags him across the floor, and throws him toward the staircase. Mark tumbles down and lands onto the bottom floor almost instantly. Amelia rushes to descend down the stairs, and meets Mark below her feet. She looks at the oncoming infected, rushing toward them. Amelia stumbles out of the way and scurries toward the exit, watching as Mark is the one taken away. “Gotta… win…” she heard him mutter, as loud as a shout in her ears. She watched as the first infected takes a bite out of his neck. More and more follow suit, and soon enough, Mark was covered by them. She exits, as she could hear Mark’s piercing shouts echo throughout the building, finding its way outside. Deaths *Lilly from What We Become *Alfred Bujnowski-Python from Beyond The Dead *Mark Jones from No Hope Category:UFSW Hunger Games Issues Category:Issues Category:UFSW Hunger Games